


Snow Day

by largoindminor



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Floof, Fluff, M/M, Shmoop, really just floofy shmoopy floof, tiniest bit of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-22
Updated: 2015-02-22
Packaged: 2018-03-14 12:17:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3410339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/largoindminor/pseuds/largoindminor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>snow day in the bunker. pure domestic fluff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snow Day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sammichgirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sammichgirl/gifts).



> what can i say, it snowed so pretty and i feel the need for some wintery wincest snuggles ok

The snowfall overnight is more than they expected- three feet at least, Dean can’t even budge the metal door wide enough to peek outside. He slams it shut, irritated.

“There’s nothing we can do Dean, the roads’ll all be closed anyway. And you need rest. So let’s just. Take a snow day.”

Dean pouts. He’s restless. He can’t shake the feeling anymore, not ever, it’s always there. _Keep moving. Get things done. Find a solution. Don’t be a monster._ He’s vacillating between frenetic fidgeting and absolute ennui. He knows he should rest, hasn’t slept more than an hour at a time for days. Can’t. Sam’s calm, though. He sits and reads, then flips on the tv, makes tea. It’s _torture._

Barely lunch time, Dean’s banging in the kitchen, cooking. The one activity he can stand to do here in the bunker, so he goes all out. The longer it takes, the longer he’s distracted. Luckily Sam went on a food run before the storm, so the kitchen’s stocked. No junk of course, he looked, it’s stocked with _Sam food_ , but still. Dean drains the pasta, stirs the creamy sauce and takes a taste. He even threw some of Sam’s spinach in there.

They eat, Sam praises the meal, he always praises Dean’s cooking. Dean moves to clean up but Sam interrupts.

“Let me, you did all the cooking.”

Dean continues to clean the table. “I got it.”

“Dean, let me help.”

“I said I got it.” he replies, sharper than he’d meant, then, “I just, uh, need somethin to keep me busy, ya know?”

Sam concedes, leaves the kitchen.

He comes back ten minutes later, Dean hears him as he finishes drying the last dish. He moves to turn but before he can he feels it, cold, wet, slapping the middle of his back.

“Damnit Sammy,” he yells, turning to see Sam run back down the hall laughing.

“Come and get me why don’t you,” Sam yells back.

Dean doesn’t think, he gives chase down the hall and out the now opened door after Sam. He doesn’t see him at first, then senses movement to his left and ducks out of the way seconds before a snowballs zooms past.

“You’re toast,” he says, stooping to gather some snow of his own.

It doesn’t last long, it’s far too cold and they’re not dressed for it, no boots or gloves or anything. Sam concedes again, laughing, snow sticking in his hair and dripping down his rosy cheeks. He walks over to Dean, cups his face and kisses his cold lips before leading them back inside. They help each other strip out of the wet freezing clothes and into warm ones.

“Go sit down,” Sam says to him, “I’ve got something for you.”

Dean’s feeling a little more relaxed now, less contrary, so he does as Sam asks even though he doesn’t entirely want to. He hops on the couch, leans against one arm and pulls a blanket over himself. Sam comes in minutes later with a steaming mug of cocoa, topped with marshmallows, whipped cream, the whole nine.

“You deserve a treat.” Sam says, grinning.

Dean takes the cup, inhales the rich chocolatey aroma, “Where were you hiding this, huh?”

Sam just chuckles and plops down next to Dean, pulls him over to lean against him, runs his fingers through Dean’s short hair. “Feeling a little better?”

Dean nods, sipping at the cocoa as Sam massages his scalp, his neck. Dean’s relaxed by the time the drink is gone, more relaxed than he’s felt in so, so long. He nuzzles at Sam, cranes his neck up to give him a hot chocolate flavored kiss, mumbles “thanks” against Sam’s lips.

Sam settles further in to the sofa so he’s almost lying down, and pulls Dean on top of him, slots him between his legs and covers them with the blanket. Dean’s been exhausted, but the romp in the snow and the warm creamy drink have made him sleepy. He falls asleep to the feel of Sam’s sweet kisses on his forehead, Sam’s soothing arms caressing his back. It’s the best sleep he’s had in weeks.


End file.
